


Surrender

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [10]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Prostitution, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I wish I thought you were kidding,” Thor tells his brother, “but I’ve come to know better."</p><p>This is a direct sequel to Push and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which it's time for pilgrimages and change...
> 
>  
> 
> This is a direct sequel to Push and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.

“It really- it kills me that he feels that way,” Thor protests. “I just wish there was something I could do. The things he thinks about himself are- well, they-.” He stops. He wants to say the things Loki thinks and feels about himself _aren’t true,_ but in actuality most of them are. It’s more that Loki doesn’t see the distinction between _doing bad things_ and _being a bad person._ He tries again: “They don’t define Loki like he thinks they do. At least, they shouldn’t have to.”

There. That’s close enough to what he means… and close enough to the truth as well.

Sif and Sigyn exchange a look. They both nod. “You’re right,” Sigyn agrees. “There is a lot more to Loki than just the sum of his wrongdoings,” she says earnestly, “but he’s the only one-…”

“-who can convince himself of that,” Sif finishes for her, expression just as serious, “no matter how much we might like to.”

Thor laughs. “What, are you two an old married couple now?”

~

Sif, he knows, is going to miss Sigyn after they move. He _should_ miss her too – she’s certainly done enough for his brother and, by extension, for him since the day she hand-delivered Loki’s methadone long ago – but he still feels a little jealous of her in ways he probably needn’t. Especially since she has a boyfriend of her own now, one who neither looks nor acts even the least little bit like his brother.

Loki hasn’t had much interaction with her recently anyway – now that he is, as far as Thor can tell, completely clean he has no reason to be at the clinic. Thor hasn’t exactly been encouraging him to pay his old friends there a visit, either. He tells himself it’s because Loki shouldn’t be tempting fate by putting himself in potential contact with active addicts. The stab of guilt he feels thinking about it now, though, reminds him that’s really just a convenient excuse.

A lie.

Odin’s boys, both the light and the dark, are such excellent liars.

~

“Hey, daydreamer,” Sigyn is saying, laughing and waving her hand in front of his face. “Anyone home? Come back to us. Sif is trying to talk to you.”

“What? Sorry,” he offers, shaking himself out of his twisted little pity party. He started all this by asking them both for suggestions – for ideas as to how he can help his brother – and he could certainly do a better job of paying courteous attention to their input.

Of paying _any_ attention, for that matter.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I have a lot on my mind. What were you saying?”

Sif rolls her eyes. “And to think I volunteered to live right next door to this winner,” she tells Sigyn. “What the _fuck_ was I thinking?”

The girls share a laugh. “You just want to enjoy the view,” Sigyn teases.

“Yeah, of _Loki,_ ” Sif responds, grinning. “He’s put some meat back on him, Siggy – you should see him. He’s looking gooooood.”

Thor clears his throat.

“Oh, don’t you start with that,” Sif tells him. “If you’re going to ask me for advice and then ignore me like I’m not even here, Thor, you have to expect to suffer.”

But then she must take pity on him, deserved or not, because she stops with the teasing and instead offers up an answer to his (original) question. “There are really just a couple of things you can do, and even those are only going to go so far.” She shrugs. “For starters, you can and should keep telling him the good things _you_ see in him; he may laugh, sure, or worse, but it’s still important for him to hear. That, and you can keep bringing he whole business up in family therapy, so the counselor can help Loki work on it. Speaking of which,” she adds, voice taking on a note of what sounds suspiciously like panic, “you _are_ planning to find a new family therapist once you move, right?”

He nods. “Of course.” He never even considered not staying in therapy, which he supposes is surprising considering how unenthusiastic he’d once been about starting. He plans to continue with his own guy via phone, at least for now, but he and Loki need a real, live moderator. Bottom line, the two of them need every last little bit of help they can get.

“Oh, thank god,” she says with such feeling that he should probably be offended.

He isn’t. It’s one place his parents weren’t wrong: By now Thor realizes he and his brother are indeed _quite a handful,_ taken one at a time or in aggregate. They’re both lucky Sif puts up with them at all.

Sigyn raises her glass. “To the future,” she says brightly.

Thor clinks his glass against hers, wishing fervently for a time when the idea of _future_ no longer filled him with such heavy dread.

~

Turning Loki from dead to alive, from Laufeyson back to Odinson, ends up being far easier than Thor expected. Apparently you just have to show up, basically.

Loki’s assets – his sizeable inheritance direct from Frigga – had been distributed to Thor, but the two of them have shared a bank account since Loki ceased to exist anyway so _returning the money_ is pretty much just a formality: Thor writes a check, they go to the bank and get Loki’s name officially added to the account, and Loki deposits the funds back right back in. Done and done.

There would normally be some business around the felony, and around showing up to finish one’s jail term like a good little criminal, but Thor _got that taken care of_ quite some time ago now and his brother is free and clear.

~

If only real life was half that simple.

~

“Are you okay with all this,” Thor asks his brother as they drive home from the bank. He can only imagine it’s weird to be yourself again after quite a bit of time spent as someone else, regardless of whether or not _yourself_ is a bad thing to be.

“Why wouldn’t I be,” Loki asks, but his voice is tight.

Thor shrugs. “I don’t think I would be,” he says, rather than calling his brother on the obvious untruth, and Loki turns to look at him with eyebrows up and mouth a surprised little _O_. “Seriously,” Thor assures his brother. “To have to pick all of my baggage back up once I’d set it down… to go back to a name that associates me with someone I despise? All that would be really hard.”

Both of them sit silent, frowning.

“I didn’t think you would understand,” Loki says at last, which is both amazing and nice to hear, but he sounds so utterly shocked that Thor immediately puts his foot in it.

“Of course not,” he says. “You never do.”

And then he cringes, because- well, that was uncalled-for.

Loki smirks. “It’s good to see some things never change,” he jabs.

Which is a whole lot better than Thor expected.

~

Losing his law license is… well, it’s weird.

Thor never really made the conscious choice to become an attorney – it was just assumed, the same way everyone assumed he would play football just like his father and attend Odin’s alma mater on a football scholarship just like his father and pledge his father’s fraternity and go on to the same law school as did his father and represent the state just like his father. Which of course Thor did, and did, and did and did and did. Unthinkingly, because it was ultimately too easy.

Far easier than raising even the smallest objection.

Except Thor is _not_ like his father, not in any way that matters. And even that alone, he knows, would be enough to have him looking forward to leaving the DA’s office.

And it’s not that alone. He doesn’t even _like_ his fucking job.

So he doesn’t quite _get_ why, when the day comes, he’s managing to make it all so goddamned hard for himself.

He has a _new_ job waiting for him now, with nice people who appreciate what he brings to the table and who don’t know his father from Adam. He should be excited. He _is_ excited.

_So,_ he thinks, as he stands outside the Appellate Courthouse for the last time, in a nice suit because no Odinson wants to die disheveled, _why is this so fucking difficult?_

He just hasn’t got an answer for himself.

Loki would. Loki would know.

_Too bad_ , Thor tells himself, _I didn’t think to ask him._

~

“You’ve waived your right to a hearing, I see,” Judge Jormungand observes as Thor stands waiting. Waiting, and trying his very hardest not to fidget. Because whatever else he may be, he is not five years old. Not anymore.

Thor nods. “I don’t want to waste everyone’s time, your Honor.”

Rather than commenting, out of nowhere, the judge smiles. “Well, I’ll miss you, Thor,” he says. “You’re a better man than your father.”

Some other things get said – formalities, instructions – but Thor doesn’t really hear them. Not after that. The judge signs, he signs, and then it’s done.

With his head spinning quite a bit more than a little, Thor turns away from the bench and walks out of the courtroom one last time.

Eight long steps carry him to the threshold. With the ninth, he’s back in the hallway and life as he’s always known it has ended.

~

“I think I should leave the sex toys for the movers to pack,” Loki says, grinning wolfishly and cradling the box in his lap. “Don’t you?”

Thor can feel his face turning red. “I wish I thought you were kidding,” he tells his brother, “but I’ve come to know better. Give it here,” he demands, reaching for the box himself. “If you can’t be bothered to pack this stuff, I will. Either way,” he adds with a little too much emotion, “it’s coming with us in the car.”

Loki passes the carton over without a fight, eyes sparkling. “Good idea,” he says. “We could have _an emergency_ between here and there and we wouldn’t want to be caught _high and dry,_ now, would we brother?”

That is _so_ not what he meant, and Thor is absolutely certain Loki knows it. He doesn’t even bother pointing it out, though, instead reaching into the box and shuffling things around. “What’s this,” he asks, holding up the black-and-tan control unit.

“I’ll show you when we get there,” Loki promises. “Thor,” he continues, in a honey-and-silk tone of voice that scares Thor a little, “we are going to have so much fun, you and I. So. Much. Fun.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes are dangerous.

Some goodbyes, it turns out, are far, far easier than others.

~

Thor tries to time his _farewell tour_ \- his last visit to the office… to pack up his personal belongings, wish a host of longstanding, long-suffering coworkers well, and then gather everyone together for one last lunch at the nearby diner - for a day when his father will be at court. He almost manages to pull it off, too, except that some well-meaning idiot does him the extremely dubious _favor_ of mentioning his intended stopover to Odin.

So much for court: Odin being Odin, after all, exceptions have a way of getting made.

 _At least,_ Thor thinks as he looks up from the task at hand - loading mugs and pens and pictures into a cardboard box that once housed ream after ream of copier paper - to see Odin looming in the doorway, _I did get to make the rounds and chat with my coworkers before everything went right into the shitter._ "May I help you," he asks politely. Just a few more minutes and he is finished here, forever.

"Everything I've done for you and this is the thanks I get? You sneak out like a mangy stray dog when I'm not around? This is the sort of shit," Odin spits, "I always expected from your brother."

"I didn't want things to end like this," Thor explains. It's true; there are so very, very many things he didn't want in play here. If Odin picks and chooses from among them differently, so be it. "I was planning to stop over to the house this weekend," he adds, because he had indeed been considering exactly that, "and say a proper goodbye then."

Someone who doesn't know the man well - which Thor does, of course, having spent an entire lifetime only dodging certain destruction by knowing exactly how to read his father - would miss the subtle signs. Thor doesn't. Odin wants his son to drop by about as much as he wants a sharp stick in the eye, and he's not making anywhere near enough effort to hide it. "But, since you're here," Thor continues as brightly as he can, "I guess you've saved me a trip. Please, have a seat." He grins, feeling more than a little like his face may crack with the effort of smiling just now. "You can keep me company while I finish packing."

~

All in all, it doesn't go as badly as he’d expected. Odin must have gotten most of the self-righteous whininess out of his system right out of the gate; after his initial sputtering, he's only somber and a little false.

Both of those, Thor can handle.

~

His father invites himself to join them all for lunch, which kind of puts a damper on things... but Odin pays, which probably makes up for it. In the eyes of Thor's soon-to-be-former peers, that is; his father has saved them from splitting the check, and the way to their hearts has always been straight through their wallets.

And daddy dearest manages to hold himself to just one snide remark about Thor's _throwing everything away and running off in pursuit of a girl,_ which is in itself a minor miracle.

It’s not like he’s really going to miss anything about this place… these people… anyway.

~

When he goes back to fetch the last of his boxes and the office doors close behind him one last time, Thor finds the whole thing feels both better and worse than he expected.

~

As soon as Loki gets home from day treatment, they pile into the car together and drive out to Frigga's gravesite.

"We should have picked up some flowers," Thor says - one hand on the wheel, the other slapping the console between them - frowning disgustedly at his own irresponsibility.

Loki catches his free hand. "She wouldn't want them anyway," his brother whispers, giving Thor’s fingers a little squeeze. "She always said things like that were tacky."

~

He stands at the footstone, fidgeting, while Loki kneels by their mother's headstone and cleans away long grass and dried leaves. Thor finds he has no sense of his mother here - he just feels uncomfortable - but his brother asked several times to make this trek and Thor knows he just couldn't deny Loki this.

Not when his brother missed her funeral. Not to mention the last years of her life, what with being off the radar and all.

Frigga was Loki's everything, when the two of them were just little boys. No, when it comes to this, Thor cannot deny his brother anything.

In fact, as he hovers useless while Loki – huddled in a shaking ball before the tombstone – cries great heaving, broken sobs, Thor only wishes he had something more to give.

~

On the drive home, neither of them says a word.

~

It seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Really.

 _Okay, so maybe having the guys over one last time actually wasn't the greatest idea after all_ , Thor mentally concedes - to Sif who, absolutely positive the whole concept was a recipe for disaster, consequently flat-out refused to join them - _but we couldn't exactly just vanish without seeing them, now, could we?_

They've been friends, or whatever passes for _friends_ in this town, since preschool. That ought to count for something.

~

"You're drunk," Loki accuses as Fandral staggers a little at the threshold.

"And you're batshit crazy," Fandral retorts. "What's your point?"

"Stop it, guys," Volstagg tells both of them, catching Fandral by the arm with enough force that everyone winces. "Please. Fandral, just try behaving for once in your life," he adds, silently mouthing _I'm sorry!_ to Thor, "It'll be novel. Seriously. Try it."

Volstagg steers Fandral ungently to one end of the couch and gives him a solid shove. "Here, have a seat," he offers cheerfully after Fandral is already down and complaining. “And thank you kindly,” he adds, to no one in particular, flopping heavily on the far end of the couch himself. “Of course I’ll be happy to join you.”

"I hope I didn't interfere with any plans," Thor says to both of them, because it’s evident he did. He can see his brother out of the corner of his eye and things aren't looking good... Loki is well beyond edgy and heading towards frantic. Thor grins at his guests anyway.

"Not at all," Volstagg assures him. "I just finished dinner with the family; this was a perfect time to step away. We’re both-,” he tries to continue, but Fandral interrupts.

The big man elbows Fandral hard in the side, but it doesn't help. "Ouch, asshole. Thor here asked me a question." He glares glassy-eyed at Volstagg, then turns back to face Thor. "I went out first because I know you're a boring-ass pussy-whipped loser these days," he says loudly. "But it's no problem. None at all. I'm good, thanks for asking."

Out of nowhere his brother towers over their drunken friend. _Wait,_ Thor tries to say, but Loki is ever quicker. "Just where do you think you get off talking to my brother that way," he demands in an icy tone that makes Thor shudder. "If you can't find yourself some manners in the next 30 seconds, we’re done here and you're leaving."

Fandral shoots a hand out and snags Loki's wrist, catching him just enough off-balance to pull him down. Loki falls hard, sprawled gracelessly against Fandral's front. He struggles, hissing and growling, but his feet slip on the wood floor and he can't get the purchase he needs to wriggle free.

"Let him go," Volstagg and Thor order in stereo, but Fandral doesn't. Instead he wraps his strong arms around Loki’s torso, pinning both slender arms against the heaving ribcage and holding on tight.

"Oh, no, I don’t think so,” he tells the both of them. And Fandral isn’t letting go, not at all; if anything, he’s just holding Loki all the tighter. “Did you ever tell your _brother_ the truth, Bambi," he asks against Loki's neck, smirking at Thor from behind – well, underneath - his brother.

Loki stiffens and goes very, very still. "Please don't," he says, voice breaking. Every bit of fight drains out of him like so much dirty water. "Please."

Fandral laughs, more than a bit coldly. "So you didn't. How surprising, my pretty little liar." He nuzzles Loki's neck. Thor hisses; Loki flinches away. "Then again, if you had, he might not be so eager to spirit you off to fairyland. And where would that leave you, exactly?"

"Please," Loki begs again. He's an open wound, and Thor is _terrified._

"I think it's time for us to go," Volstagg warns. He shifts his weight forward and starts to stand.

"Not so fast, big boy. We just got here. And the little princess has something to tell her brother, doesn't she?" Fandral squeezes Loki hard enough to make him squeak.

"Don't hurt him," Thor roars, lunging up out of his chair with fists up and ready.

"Stop it," his brother squawks, hands up as best as he can manage given Fandral’s stranglehold. “He’s right. I should tell you.” He sucks in a shuddering breath. “I’m tired of secrets. And let the fuck go of me,” he adds, pulling ineffectually against Fandral’s arms. “Don’t be such a coward. I won’t let him hit you.”

 _What. The. Fuck._ Thor staggers back a step, going for his chair, then thinks the better of it and stays standing. “Tell me what, Loki,” he asks quietly, more than a little embarrassed to find his voice is shaking.

The room goes very, very still. Thor is pretty sure he can hear his own heart beating.

Loki clears his throat. “Fandral was one of my customers,” he says flatly. “A regular. Back- back before you came for me.”

Thor shakes his head violently. It doesn’t compute. He can’t _make_ it compute. “But you said-,” he starts, talking first to Fandral and then turning to Volstagg for aid. “But he said-.”

Volstagg looks as shocked as Thor feels. “You have to believe me,” he says, shrinking back against the couch cushions with both hands out. “I had no idea. He always acted like he _would_ do it. I swear, he never once mentioned that he _had._ ”

It hits Thor all at once – this sneering bastard has fucked his brother. _His_ brother. _HIS._ And paid Malekith for the honors.

Which means Fandral knew where Loki was, back when Thor thought he was dead. _A regular,_ Loki had said. All the time Thor’s fucking heart was breaking, Fandral _knew._

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he growls, “or I swear to god I will fucking kill you.”

As Loki finally wrests free of Fandral and leaps frantically up, Thor realizes his mistake. “Not you, baby,” he assures Loki. “Never you.”

~

It almost gets ugly.

Thor is seeing red. All he wants to do is _make that motherfucker pay._ He picks up the closest useful thing - a heavy tumbler, from the coffee table - and takes a menacing step forward.

Loki screams, high and piercing like a little girl.

~

Volstagg hustles Fandral out, all the while apologizing as best he can.

Loki backs into a corner and sinks to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

~

Thor paces back and forth, trying to calm down.

He needs to help his brother – he has to – but like this he is clearly too terrifying.

~

Loki’s sobs have given way to broken little noises by the time Thor finally feels safe approaching him. “Loki, baby, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not angry with you. I promise,” he adds, and he really means it… this time more than ever before. “I just- I can’t believe a friend of mine knew where you were and did nothing.” _Did worse than nothing,_ he doesn’t add.

“Please,” he begs when Loki curls away from his offered hand, “it’s over. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt anyone.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sif helps, and so does hot chocolate.

Sif picks up on the fourth or fifth ring, just as Thor’s really starting to panic.

"Listen, I- _we_ could really your help for a few minutes," he tells her, keeping a close eye on Loki. Loki who is huddled shivering in the corner.

"Oh no you don't," she kids, laughing into the phone. "You rich boys have engaged the services of a moving company. Surely you can get the guys to help you pack your own porn." When he doesn't laugh with her, she stops short. "Wait, what's wrong?"

He's not even sure. "Nothing." Okay, that's not true. "Something. Sorry. I- I- we got some upsetting news and I- well, I scared Loki without meaning to. He needs- he needs someone right now." He swallows loudly. "Someone who isn't me."

"Shit," she says. "Are the- did Volstagg and Fandral leave?"

"Yes." He's trying very, very hard to keep his voice calm and low. It's not easy.

"Okay. Um. Give me five minutes," she offers.

~

Sometimes _five minutes_ passes in the mere blink of an eye; other times, though, it feels like an eternity. Right now? This is one of those _other times._

It's been a long, long while since Thor last felt so completely and utterly helpless.

Loki is curled in a little ball in the corner, rocking and weeping near-silently. Thor wants very badly to gather his brother close - to hold him and shush him and wipe the tears away - but when he’d tried to put a hand on Loki's shoulder a few minutes ago his brother had shrieked and flinched away as if his fingertips had been dripping acid.

It's why he called Sif, really.

He's trying not to pace. He needs to be small and quiet and motionless, he knows, if he wants to hold out any hope whatsoever of calming Loki down.

Quiet stillness, though, is not how Thor handles tension. He needs to _do_ something. He _needs to move._

He finally settles for walking (softly, slowly - this is _so hard_ ) over to the stereo and turning on some quiet classical music. He’s not sure what it is. Frigga would have liked it.

Two minutes down, three to go.

Loki is shaking terribly, to the point it hurts to watch. Thor isn't sure if his brother is cold, or if the whole thing is nerves. He leans down and picks up the soft grey blanket from the floor next to the couch - this one is Loki's absolute favorite, fluffy and cuddly and not the least bit itchy - and pads slowly across the room.

 _Not too close,_ he reminds himself, trying desperately to remember what his therapist had said about _personal space_. "Here's a blanket, baby," he says, as quietly as he can, which doesn't seem to be very quiet after all. After a moment of standing there feeling stupid and awkward and big and loud, he crouches and slides the thing carefully across the floor.

Just then the buzzer sounds. _Thank fucking god,_ he thinks, and then feels horribly guilty when he belatedly realizes the sound has startled his brother. "That's just Sif," he tells Loki. "I'm not leaving - I just need to buzz her in."

~

He must look awful, from Sif's worried expression. "What's going on," she says, not even bothering with _hello_.

It's probably best not to act as though they're talking behind Loki's back, Thor expects, given the situation. "Come sit down," he offers, steering her to the couch and taking the chair himself; he feels (minutely, yes, but it's something) better when he can see his brother.

Sif is good. She looks at Loki and turns back to Thor, face full of concern, but she doesn't panic or squeal or run over to the corner or otherwise make things worse.

She doesn’t handle things way he tends to.

"Fandral and Volstagg were here earlier," he starts off, even though she knows that part already. "Fandral was really shitfaced. I probably shouldn't even have let him in," he adds, thinking aloud. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all. "Anyway, he was rude to me and got kind of grabby with Loki, and then he- well, he pushed Loki into telling me something- something really troubling." If his brother wants to share the details himself, fine, but they’re not critical to the story and Thor- well, nowadays, he feels more than a little funny making Loki’s decisions for him.

"I got angry," he admits, reminding himself again to keep his voice down. "I threatened Fandral and ordered him out of my home. Out of _our_ home," he amends. "I got too aggressive, and I frightened my brother." He wipes away a sneaky tear that's trying to run down his face without permission. It’s not a time to be crying; he needs to be strong here. "I can't give him what he needs... not while he's still so fearful. I'm sorry," he says, to both of them.

Sif chews the inside of her cheek, lips pursed. "No physical damage to anyone," she asks Thor after a few seconds. "Okay," she acknowledges when he shakes his head _no._ "I’ll tell you what - why don't you go make us all some cocoa? The good stuff," she adds as he heads for the kitchen, "not that fake shit in the little packets."

~

He takes his time, figuring he could use a breather. Someone will come for him if anything goes wrong. _More_ wrong.

When he has finally located the almond milk and rustled up sufficiently-large mugs - a lot of the breakables are packed already; he can't even find a tray, but a box lid will probably do since his parents aren’t here to witness the whole thing anyway - Thor carries his peace offering into the living room.

Things seem better. Sif is sitting at one end of the couch, cross-legged, talking quietly to his brother, who is perched at the other end listening.

Loki still looks like a tightly-strung wire, as though one more turn will be enough to fray and then snap him, but he's not crying. Not rocking.

_Not leaving._

"Hi," Thor offers. They both look up at him. No one says anything. It's awkward, looming here like this with his stupid little box-top of hot chocolate.

He sets it down carefully, only sloshing a small amount out into the cardboard, and heads resolutely for the chair he’d chosen earlier.

Sif and Loki look pointedly at one another. "Oh, no, here. Allow me," she protests, untangling herself and hurrying to stand. "I'll move over there. You come sit with your brother."

"May I," he asks Loki.

His brother peers up at him, all big green eyes above the chipped rim of a mug. The mug he's snagged while Sif and Thor have been busy... standing around looking stupid, probably.

Thor and Loki stare at each other through the curling tendrils of steam.

Loki nods. Thor eases into the warm spot Sif left him. "Thanks," he tells her, then returns his brother’s nod.

When nothing awful happens, he leans out to take his own mug and sits quietly sipping.

"So, does this change anything," Sif asks him after they’ve all had some time to enjoy their cocoa.

"No," he says immediately. Which of course isn't true. Not entirely, anyway. "Well," he amends, "I guess it changes whether or not I'm speaking to Fandral." Thor’s not sure if Loki told Sif what happened, so he clarifies: "As in, I'm not. Probably ever, but I’ve been told both Loki and my therapist like it better when I steer clear of absolutes." He smiles a little.

It makes his face hurt.

"So you don't hate me? I’ve always thought if you found out you would hate me." Loki's voice is very small and brittle-sounding.

"No," Thor exclaims, and then adds "sorry" when his brother jumps. "Not at all," he repeats quite a bit less forcefully. "I- I just hate it that you were suffering and- and I didn't know. I would have come for you sooner." He tries hard not to think about how, more often than not, he was part and party to Loki’s pain.

Loki shrugs, one shoulder slipping out of the blanket. Thor wants badly to reach out and fix it. He doesn't - he hasn't been invited. "Maybe I wasn't ready to be rescued," Loki says, shrugging again. "Maybe it just wasn't time."

Thor shifts uncomfortably. "Still, I would have tried."

"Oh, yes, I know," Loki says, with feeling. It’s almost like teasing.

Sif laughs. "Give a man a hammer..."

Loki laughs with her. He’s just so beautiful, laughing. The tight, painful knot in Thor's chest eases slightly. "Are you okay," he finally dares to ask his brother.

"No," Loki says quietly. "But, given enough time, perhaps I will be."

~

“We should come over and help you pack,” Thor tells Sif by way of apology as she’s starting for the stairs. “Since we took up so much of your evening, I mean.” He looks back at his brother, making sure that _we_ he just casually dropped wasn’t out of line; Loki, drier now and quite a bit more perky, nods in agreement

When Thor turns back to Sif, she’s grinning. “Nice try, Odinson. Your last shot at rooting through my lingerie drawer came and went many years ago. That ship has _sailed,_ mister. But thanks for the offer,” she adds, more seriously. “Don’t worry, honestly. It’s fine.”

~

Later on, Loki lets Thor wrap all around him in bed. He doesn’t struggle, or even wriggle irritably; he just lies there limp and still and lets Thor rub his back, his neck, his arms, his shoulders with long, slow, relaxing strokes.

Thor makes himself rub gently over the scar without flinching. If Loki lived through it, the least _he_ can do is learn to cope with the aftermath.

 _Of so many things, in so many ways,_ he thinks, rueful. Sad.

It’s a long time after his brother drifts off to sleep that Thor is able to relax _himself_ enough to join him.


End file.
